


Telegrams & Teacups

by TheLadyOfManyFandoms



Category: Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Mystery, henry cavill being a beautiful sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheLadyOfManyFandoms
Summary: Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request:help him find Enola.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Reader, Sherlock Holmes/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 198





	Telegrams & Teacups

**Author's Note:**

> This tiny idea had me so obsessed that it’s all I’ve been writing for the last few hours! 
> 
> I have no regrets<3

You had just poured yourself a cup of tea and set it down on the small table by the armchair when there was a knock at the door.

_How peculiar._ You thought to yourself. 

Crossing the room, you turned the handle and propped open the panel of wood to see who your guest was and was met with a man from the post office holding in his hands a beige envelope.

“Telegram for (Y/n).” He explained. You confirmed your identity and were handed the papered item bidding the gentlemen a good day.

With a swift closing of the door, you leaned against it and opened the letter, recognising initials of S.H on the bottom right corner. Sherlock had told you that he was leaving to attend to a personal matter in the country yesterday morning so if he sent a priority telegram to you, then there must have been a development in the case.

Unfolding the paper, you read the message and learnt that he requested your assistance in locating his sister Enola Holmes who he suspected to be in London and that he would be back in the city later that afternoon. At the bottom of the letter there were the words ‘URGENT’ and a short series of words describing the girl scrawled rather messily, no doubt belonging to his brother Mycroft who was constantly teetering on the edge of patience.

You glanced over at the teacup still sending swirls of steam into the air and sighed - your drink would have to wait. Grabbing your coat from its stand, you hastily put it on and dashed out the door. 

When you stepped out onto the street, you remembered Sherlock once mentioned having a sister that he had not contacted in years. It was a simple remark that he let slip when he had his guard down around you - it didn’t happen often and he had caught himself before opening up to emotion. A trait that you had come to accept.

Focusing back on finding the youngest Holmes sister, Sherlock had told you of the station that she would have gotten off at. A station name was all you needed because as it turned out, you were rather gifted at getting into people’s minds and predicting the footsteps that they had taken and ones that they were likely to take next.

From the way Sherlock had explained the situation in the letter to Mycroft’s hasty emotion-driven description, you could tell that Enola was on the run to escape her brothers and a young girl out of place, who wanted to stay hidden, would have to blend into the crowd.

Your feet brought you to the first dress shop on the street from the station. Peering through the window, you noticed that the shop owner was counting a large wad of cash that seemed to be suspiciously ‘earned’ by an otherwise empty and ragged looking store. Your eye also caught the clothing rack of beautiful dresses and the empty hangers by the window. 

‘Unrefined’ was one of Mycroft’s choice words and it seemed that Enola was clever enough to use his descriptions to her advantage.

Stepping back from the shop, you looked around the busy and bustling streets. Dressed like a lady, the young girl would be in need of accommodation, therefore she would have asked the shopkeeper for suitable lodgings to avoid wandering the streets aimlessly.

As if on cue, the dressmaker walked out of her shop and made her way across the street. Letting your instincts lead, you followed at a safe distance with a casual stride so as to not arouse suspicion. In a matter of minutes after turning a few streets and across empty passages, you had tracked the shopkeeper to what looked like a lodging of some kind on the edge of a suburb.

It was not terrible but would definitely keep one out of sight. Walking in, you introduced yourself as an acquaintance of Sherlock Holmes and inquired about Enola. The bookkeep nodded and immediately led you up a narrow set of stairs before approaching a room and knocking on the door.

“Young Miss. You have a visitor.” They announced. You heard a small shuffle of feet from inside and the door creaked open to reveal and young girl with big brown eyes. She seemed to have recognised you, stepping to the side to let you in. She closed the door and turned around.

“I know who you are.” She said boldly with a fresh air of confidence that was not to be expected from someone so young. “You work for my brother, Sherlock.”

Looking around at the little space, newspapers scattered over the bed, you smiled at Enola’s phrasing.

“Actually I work _with_ him - on the occasion.” You corrected wheeling back around to the girl who folded her arms.

“Why are you here?”

“A telegram from your brother.”

Enola frowned and shook her head. “Well, I won’t return home so they can ship me off to some home for girls to be oppressed into this world.” She looked at you and realised that you dressed in the typical London style like everyone else that she had come across and added a small, “No offence.”

“Believe me, I am not a person of societal rules. I wear no hat and no gloves, and my neighbour - your brother - usually has me wound up in one of his most outrageous cases.” You explained with a small laugh. “Mycroft only tolerates my so-called ‘embarrassing presence’ because Sherlock insists.”

Your words seemed to have reached the young girl from the way her posture fell more relaxed.

“So, you won’t take me to my brothers?” She asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle while shaking your head.

“No. Mycroft called you wild and unladylike in my telegram but as I stand here before you, I don’t see any of it. You’re remarkable and we’ve only met.”

Enola sighed with some relief that she was not going to be dragged away and smoothed out her dress before looking up at you. “Thank you.” She said politely.

You had completed the task of finding Enola Holmes as requested and bid your farewell to the young girl but not before reminding her to reach out to you if she needed assistance. While she appeared to be very bright and capable, the city had its dangers concealed as innocence.

Leaving the lodging, you trekked back home, picking up a loaf of bread from the wheat merchant for dinner. It had been a long day and you were ready to sit back and enjoy a fresh cup of tea given that the one you had made earlier would have likely gone cold.

At the door, you balanced the paper bag against your hip and turned the key to unlock your place of residence. This time when you walked in, you discovered that you weren’t alone - Mycroft was pacing by the fireplace while Sherlock had taken a seat in your armchair with a newspaper in his face.

“Has nobody told you that it’s incredibly rude to show up in a person’s home unannounced?” You wondered letting the door fall to a close behind you. Sherlock smirked behind the paper at your comment as he turned the page. Mycroft stepped in your direction and your eyes darted up to see the scowl beneath his moustache.

“What I find to be rude is that you took it upon yourself to be entertained with such trivial actions instead of carrying out the simple task of finding our sister.” He snapped, gesturing to the bread in your hands. His sharp tone of cold authority once intimidated you, but each encounter had you grow bold, refusing to be tread on by the man.

“A task so simple that she managed to elude your brilliant mind?” You questioned with a small purse of your lips and tilting your head ever so slightly to accentuate your sarcasm. “If that isn’t an embarrassment to the name of Holmes, I don’t know what is?”

It was like you had struck the man physically as his walking cane was suddenly pointed at you with warning.

“Watch your tone, (Y/n). I can make your life exceedingly difficult.”

You held your ground against the man and smiled back. “Just being in my presence is difficult enough.”

His jaw clenched; the eldest Holmes brother pulled his cane back to his side refusing to entangle in a pointless argument. Head high, he scoffed and grumbled about how disappointing you were and why Sherlock kept you around as he exited the apartment.

Thankful that he was gone, you walked over to the small table by the window and set the bread down before picking up scattered pieces of paper.

“I take it that you found her.” Sherlock inquired from where he sat.

“Of course. She’s quite well hidden.”

“You didn’t tell Mycroft.”

Turning around, you crossed the room to the fireplace to place a few stray envelopes on the mantelpiece. “I don’t believe I owe him an answer after he broke into my home like some common thief.”

Sherlock set the newspaper down and watched you, “And yet, you’ve let me stay.” He said curiously.

You dusted your hands and glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a playful, almost-teasing smile.

Taking that for your answer, the famed detective stood up and placed the newspaper back from where he first retrieved it. You had finished up and noticed that he was on the border of leaving too.

“I take it that you won’t tell me of her location either?” He surmised, tugging a little on his coat to straighten it out.

With a small laugh, you walked past him and patted his chest. “You might be more agreeable than your brother, but I have no desire to make your job easy, Sherlock.” You told him kindly. “I’ll keep Enola in my sights and hidden until you catch up.”

That’s when you saw it, sitting on the armchair table was your teacup from that morning except, instead being filled with a cold liquid, it was hot and steaming. Frowning, you turned to Sherlock who was by the door, smiling at your bewildered expression.

“You’ve had a long day. I’ll give you some time to catch up.” He winked and stepped out, disappearing behind your front door.


End file.
